


a little under-rehearsed

by givebackmylifecas



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dyslexia, Fluff, M/M, Mónica didn't leave the bank with them, Season/Series 03, idek what this is, just palermo being soft ig
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-10
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26382493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givebackmylifecas/pseuds/givebackmylifecas
Summary: “Does the Professor know?”Denver scowls. “Know what?”Palermo sighs, gesturing at the handbook. “That you’re dyslexic. I could hear you, you know… you shouldn’t have to sound out half of those words.”
Relationships: Denver | Daniel Ramos/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Comments: 17
Kudos: 46





	a little under-rehearsed

**Author's Note:**

> just some fluff for those inclined to reading palver
> 
> TWs for some references to ableism
> 
> Title from the amazing devil song "marbles"

“What are you doing?”

The question catches Denver off guard. He thought he was alone and unlikely to be disturbed in the empty chapel the Professor turned into a classroom. It’s late, nearly three in the morning, and his eyes hurt from the dim lighting and the jumble of letters on the page in front of him.

Nairobi lent him her copy of the handbook without question when he asked, made a joke about him sleeping in class. He went along with it, joked about how boring it was – that’s why he hadn’t been able to answer when the Professor asked him about the military response protocol he was supposed to have memorised by now.

The last heist was easier. He has less to lose, everything to gain and his father was still there. His father wasn’t an educated man by any means, but he understood Denver, knew his weaknesses and didn’t judge him for them.

He misses him, more than he lets on to the others, more than he allows himself to think about most of the time. Especially now. When he has an entire handbook to read, but the letters are small and bleed together and even sounding them out doesn’t help because he doesn’t know what half the words mean.

Palermo is the last person he expected to see at this time of night, especially in the classroom. He always looks like he’s swallowed glass when he walks into the chapel, even when he’s explaining his plan.

He just looks tired now, there are dark circles under his eyes and he’s dressed in a robe that Denver thinks looks more suited to someone as elegant as Berlin had been.

“Uh, nothing,” he finally replies and Palermo looks unconvinced. “Why are you here?”

Palermo gestures at the blackboard. “Couldn’t sleep, thought I’d go over the numbers again.”

Denver nods, looking back at the handbook as Palermo walks past him. He doesn’t say anything as he picks up a piece of chalk and starts scribbling, so Denver tries to go back to what he was doing. Palermo pays him no attention, but he’s painfully aware of how long it takes for him to get through a page, of how he has to mumble the words aloud. He wonders if Palermo is listening, silently judging him, thinking of how stupid he is, if he’s got that same look the Professor and Tokyo sometimes have when he takes too long to understand them.

When he next looks up, it’s nearing four and he still hasn’t got through half of what he wanted to read. Palermo sighs loudly and puts down his chalk. He stretches, then yawns before sitting down at the desk next to Denver.

“So, why are you here reading the handbook we were supposed to have finished last week?” he asks bluntly.

Denver flushes, hands curling into fists. Anger and embarrassment always lived side-by-side in his mind. “I’ve been busy. Haven’t had time.”

It’s a poor excuse, they both know it.

“Alright,” Palermo nods. “You know, I’m not quite tired yet… why don’t you read to me? That shit will put anyone to sleep.”

“I… No.”

“No?”

Denver shakes his head. “Read it yourself.”

Palermo looks at him, eyes narrowed, for just long enough to make Denver nervous.

“What?” he asks aggressively, but Palermo refuses to be intimidated.

“Does the Professor know?”

Denver scowls. “Know what?”

Palermo sighs, gesturing at the handbook. “That you’re dyslexic. I could hear you, you know… you shouldn’t have to sound out half of those words.”

Denver smacks his hand away from the handbook, pushing back his chair and getting to his feet.

“I’m not… whatever you just called me. I’ve just been busy okay?”

“Too busy to do the one thing we’re here to do?” He doesn’t look amused, isn’t smirking the way Denver is sort of expecting him to.

“Shut up,” he growls at Palermo.

“Hey, it’s no skin off my nose,” Palermo shrugs. “I just think you could use some help… and the Professor wouldn’t be so hard on you if you told him.”

Denver shakes his head. “There’s nothing to tell! I’m not stupid, okay? I can read!”

Palermo takes a step towards him, more hesitant than Denver has seen him before.

“No one’s saying you can’t, it’s just that it should be easier… is this seriously the first time someone has told you that?”

“Look, I was never going to win any prizes for intelligence, alright?”

He turns, fully intending to storm out. Except that just before he gets to the door, he hears Palermo speak again.

“You’re not stupid. And it’s not your fault no one noticed you’re dyslexic. That’s on your teachers, not you.”

The words are spoken quietly, but every single one goes ricocheting around Denver’s head like a shot.

“My uh, my dad used to say, I was just slow, needed time,” he says quietly, turning and taking a few steps in Palermo’s direction.

Palermo sits on the edge of one of the desks, arms crossed over his chest. There’s an odd look on his face, unusually open, sincere. “He was maybe right about you needing time… but you’re not slow.”

Denver nods, clenching his jaw. Palermo is still looking at him, like he understands, like he cares, like he pities him.

“My dad was a good person, a good dad,” he insists. “He didn’t mean anything by it.”

Palermo shrugs. “I’m sure he didn’t. If he were a bad dad, he wouldn’t have cared enough to notice.” Something about the way he says it, bitterness tingeing his voice, makes Denver sad for him and for himself. He misses his dad.

“He was in the last heist, right?” Palermo continues. “Did he help you with the prep?”

Denver nods, looking down at his hands. “Yeah, he would uh, take me out to smoke and read the notes with me until I could remember them.”

Movement from across the room makes him look up and Palermo is walking towards him, hands stuffed in the pockets of his robe. He jerks his head towards the door.

“Come on, let’s go outside. And take that handbook with you.”

He walks out of the room before Denver can answer. He stares after Palermo, stunned for just moment, before scrambling to his feet and following. Palermo leads the way through the warren of corridors, completely confident in the directions. Denver wonders just how much time Palermo spent here with Berlin. Bogota and Marseille are as bad about getting lost as any of the rest of them.

The night air is frigid when they emerge out into it and Denver is thankful for the sheepskin coat he was wearing in the classroom. Palermo is still wrapped only in his thin, silk robe, but he doesn’t seem to feel the cold.

They take seats at the long table in the courtyard and Palermo produces a slightly squashed carton of cigarettes from his pocket. He offers one to Denver, who accepts gratefully, then takes one of his own. They smoke in silence for a moment, then Palermo flips open the handbook to where Denver had dog-eared his place. He taps the page, then nudges the book towards Denver. He leans forward to light the candles nearest to them, mostly burned down tea lights that Nairobi insisted leant elegance to their dinner.

“Go on,” he says casually, as if this isn’t the scariest thing Denver has done since he left the gang with Nairobi and Helsinki.

Denver drags the candles closer, angling the book towards the light. He starts to read, haltingly, eyes flicking over to Palermo, who is staring straight up at the sky instead of at him.

Palermo doesn’t really speak, only ever chiming in when Denver gets so stuck on a word that he can’t move on from. If anyone were listening, it would make for a very strange one-sided conversation.

When Palermo stops him, the sun is starting to rise. “See, you’re not that bad. You got through quite a lot.”

“Yeah,” Denver nods, then drops his head into his hands. “But I didn’t understand half of it, so there’s no way I’m going to be able to remember it.”

Palermo lights another cigarette. “How did you do it last time?”

Denver shrugs. “My dad just read me the main points again and again until I knew them off by heart.”

“Alright then… come see me after dinner tonight.”

“Wait, are you sure?” Denver asks, eyebrows drawing together in surprise.

Palermo scrubs a hand over his face and nods. “Sure. I can’t sleep anyway, not in this hellhole.” That description of the otherwise idyllic monastery startles a laugh out of Denver and Palermo smirks. “Besides, you’re less annoying than most of the others… easy on the eyes to,” he adds as an afterthought.

Denver blushes, but doesn’t look away. “Yeah?”

“Sure,” Palermo shrugs. “Right, time for bed.”

Denver freezes, halfway out of his chair, eyes wide. Palermo frowns at him and then laughs.

“Oh god, please don’t look at me like that. I’ve been up for twenty-two hours, your virtue is safe.”

He stubs out his cigarette, still laughing and gets to his feet. Denver follows him, reaching for his wrist, before he can go too far.

Palermo’s eyes flick down, looking at the fingers Denver has wrapped around his arm. “What?”

“Uh, thank you,” Denver says. “For not… being a dick about this.”

“Right,” Palermo says, looking torn between laughing and scowling. “You’re welcome, glad I meet your very low expectations.”

Denver nods and Palermo pulls away, continuing back into the monastery. Except for the second time in less than five minutes, Denver finds himself hurrying after him, grabbing Palermo’s elbow this time.

Palermo is looking somewhat close to pissed off now. “What?”

Denver hesitates, opens his mouth to speak and closes it again. Palermo sighs and makes to leave again so Denver lurches forward kisses him. Hesitantly at first, but harder when Palermo readily responds.

“What was that?” Palermo asks when Denver pulls away again.

Denver scratches the back of his neck. “A thank you?”

Palermo’s lips curl up into a smirk. “Well… you’re welcome. But for the record? I wasn’t helping you so you’d do that.”

“No I know,” Denver says. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have done it.”

“In that case, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Palermo says.

Before he can turn away, Denver kisses him again, just a quick press but one that hints at more.

“See you tomorrow,” he says and walks away before Palermo can say anything else, entirely unsure of what he’s just started, and completely okay with it.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not dyslexic but i have quite a few friends who are and i'm sort of basing this on their experiences
> 
> as always i live for your kudos/comments and you can scream at me on tumblr ([@hefellfordean](https://hefellfordean.tumblr.com)) or twitter ([@angstypalermo](https://twitter.com/angstypalermo)) if you like


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